


Bloody leech

by Taera



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Sort of? - Freeform, but we all know it's not for long, dammit, oh poor Geoffrey, this is how I tried to write porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Taera
Summary: His body heaved, spine arching and cracking and pain, white-hot pain coursing through his very core, the feeling of being squeezed and shattering almost too much to bear. Slashes along his arms and sides throbbed and ached, bites on his shoulders burning, head pounding from the frantic staccato of his labored heart.He had lost.





	Bloody leech

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, yes, what could possibly be better than writing porn in a middle of a week? Writing some character study, that's what!  
> No (yes).  
> But seriously, my addled ramblings aside, this was written in one go instead of sleep, so typos and mistakes are a given. I've tried to my best to beta-read it, buuuuuuuuut it's half past one AM where I live, so /ahem/ typos, yes
> 
> Next time I will _really_ try and write porn :D
> 
> Also, at some point in the past I've stumbled upon a theory at reddit about Geoffrey getting turned from the King Arthur's blood, and not because of Reid. Alas, I don't have the link at hand (but the post is somewhere out there; how hard could it possibly be to find it, yes?). Now you know this idea isn't mine, I just took it to play around a bit.

His body heaved, spine arching and cracking and _pain,_ white-hot pain coursing through his very core, the feeling of being squeezed and _shattering_ almost too much to bear. Slashes along his arms and sides throbbed and ached, bites on his shoulders burning, head _pounding_ from the frantic staccato of his labored heart.

He had _lost_.

Black and red shadow loomed above, cold piercing eyes watching him, appraising him, thin blood-stained lips pulled down in a grimace of anger, exasperation and bitterness. That damn leech with his talks of alliance, when in truth he was as much a monster as the others, even worse. Geoffrey looked into his pale eyes and saw emptiness, cold and vast _nothing_ under all the shallow emotions.

And now he was going to _die_.

 

It all started… actually, he couldn’t even remember when it all had begun. Perhaps, when he shot his own brother who turned into blood-sucking monster, with this kill dedicating his body and soul to one simple goal: keeping humans safe from the bloody leeches. The fire inside him burned bright and hot, licking him from within, giving him strength to move with broken limbs and survive wounds others succumbed to.

Perhaps, it happened after Carl’s death, when Geoffrey had to step up, to pick up the mantle, as the saying went; after all, everyone in the order knew he’d be their next leader, and he only had to prove their expectations right.

A small thing, yes, absolutely. Very easy to accomplish (fuck no).

As time went by, his scars grew in numbers, his men in conviction. And then the influenza came, and everything unraveled into chaos, bloody and terrifying and those _screams_ became constants. Especially in London.

When Geoffrey realized just how many Skals roamed the streets at night, he cursed and seethed and for the next several weeks went on patrols with his men. Killing monsters and saving mortals, finding new followers who burned with the same desire to avenge their loved ones as he did.

Bloody leeches.

Every time the fight went a minute too long, the claws and fangs flashing a little too close, a rookie going off into an alley a little too far and dying with blood gurgling from their mouths and steaming guts torn out for all the world to see, Geoffrey remembered that tiny vial of dark glass, locked away safely in his trunk. The blood of King Arthur- _the_ one of the most powerful relics Priwen had at its disposal. Although they didn’t really know how to use it, e xcept for one thing: _do not drink more than one drop_ . And hey, what _is_ a drop? It was such an unclear measurement to go on by, especially when the liquid in question had long dried up into powder.

He thought, and the decision weaved its way into his conscious mind, making itself known somewhere between Reid stumbling onto him at Pembroke and Geoffrey stalking Reid into the theater. This leech- this _newborn Ekon_ \- possessed powers others could only dream of mere days after his second birth, and what did he do with it? Started a _bloody Skal epidemic_ , in the meantime playing the good Doctor and giving away medicine for free.

Soon after that Geoffrey ordered to capture and question Swansea, remaining behind in the hospital to confront another monster that had found shelter withing these walls. And he had come prepared- he added _one drop_ of water into the dark vial, took one drop of _that_ and mixed it with some more water, pouring this tiny mouthful into a flask. He even asked a chaplain to bless it.

And he drank it, right in front of Doctor fucking Reid. He felt _power_ surge through him, his longsword all but weightless in his hands, eyes sharper, legs faster, blows stronger. He hurt Reid. But the Ekon aimed to de _stroy_ him, hissing and biting and swinging his medical saw with disturbing precision. Still, neither of them had the upper hand, until something inside Geoffrey clenched, sending him sideways, staggering and disoriented. Reid immediately jumped at the opportunity, latching onto him from behind and sinking fangs into his neck with disgusting wet tearing of skin and muscle. Geoffrey would’ve screamed if he had the air to do so; his heart _spasmed_ again, sending blinding pain up his chest and into his left arm, adding to the torture of the beast feeding from him. He managed to shoot Reid in the side with his last stake, making the leech twitch and jump away with an angry snarl.

Then the pain came, and Geoffrey crumbled to the floor, panting for breath, digging into the wood, scratching at his chest in a futile attempt to rip the root of this agony out.

His body heaved, his back arched, feet scrambling. Dark figure with pale gaze loomed above.

At this moment, looking into the eyes of the monster, Geoffrey realized with sudden clarity that he was going to _die_ not because some leech finally got the better of him, no. Because he used an artifact without reading a goddamn manual first.

How stupid. How pathetic.

He had so much left to do. _He didn’t want to die_.

 

The first inhale, deep and bittersweet, brought him into a dark world, red beacons of light pulsating just below him. His limbs, his head, his teeth, his _everything_ ached, throat parched and dry.


End file.
